Happy endings

We all agreed we wanted
those happy endings.
Wanted them so bad
we’d step on anyone else’s -
relinquish families, jobs, commitments.
Walk away into the technicolor horizon;
disappearing like a hobo
burrowing under an abutment.
Waiting out the night.
Waiting for the pink sky of new promises.

It didn’t matter who cried behind us;
we were singing the songs
of our abandonment.

We emptied ourselves of aspirations;
left only azure illusion.
We lied - mostly to ourselves.
Swindling and pilfering,
until our cache erupted -
littering finales upon
the sweltering ground.

Cold slaps did not wake us,
just sent us running toward
the last figments, clay-shaped
with misshapen fingers;
wrung jaws flapping loosely.
Loading our mantras
to fire at the wind,
we splayed our happy endings
across a brick wall.


© 2002 Melissa Songer